The Refugee

Warming myself in the fire of the sun, why must the soil be so cold? Listen closely, and I'll show you a story of ancestors I never knew They had a place like this that they called home, or so I was told Watch intently; I'll unfold my own fable heard before you like they grew Down the blackest hole, the richest safety I would know, I began to take hold Wait patiently; here comes a thin line of green brought by a stream of blue In good time, don't prop me up now! No trust; I will hold my own crown You sleep so calmly without remorse in your house for hours eightfold I've been sweating all night, hoping that morning won't come, only to cut me down Then you come with hands and fingers, pulling out the nails that held together the place I made anew Now, I'm just another refugee; controlled by the view you hold